Saturday 23 February 2013

Nightwatch

Dulle Griet  (Mad Meg)
 Brueghel, Pieter the Elder


Two-thirty am, on Ward AMU; as always, when I am here, I have tricked the medics: I have taken 2 mg of smuggled-in diazepam as well as the 10mg of temazepam prescribed for me. I have no idea how bad this combination of tranqilizer and sleeping pill is for me but it has allowed me some hours of uneasy, often interrupted, but nevertheless recognisable sleep, a state of being I would otherwise not achieve. The heart monitor above my bed is bleeping regularly, several short bleeps of sharp, even tone interspersed with a number of higher, more urgent, longer notes. These latter tell me that the rate which fluctuates between anything below one hundred beats per minute to up to one hundred and thirty beats has reached the upper rate. l30/pm is not good but still better than 180/pm, a heart rate I have endured on previous hospital stays. The day before I had gone for a deep tissue massage to Jilly-with-the-healing-hands. She went to work on my back with her usual enthusiasm, thus stimulating my adrenal glands into a frenzy of adrenaline production which caused an electrical malfunction. For 99.9% of people  there would be no ill-effects. Not me. I am awkward, or rather, my obstreperous cardiac system is. 

I lie quietly, listening to the monitor and the noises around me. I am wearing an eye mask, the sort of thing they give you on long-haul night flights, and have stuffed ear plugs into my ears. They never fit properly, only when I keep my fingers on them, pushing them further into the ear opening, do the noises in the room recede. The eye mask is a little uncomfortable but it does the trick of dulling the already dimmed lights to an acceptable level. The noise from my neighbour has woken me. “Go away”, she shouts, “I don’t want to talk to you. You hear me?” It sounds like a command, not a request. Her voice is guttural, riddled with the cancer destroying her lungs.

The self-medication has slowed my thoughts, I am too tired to be angry at the disturbance. Floating in semi-sleep on the lonely island of my hospital bed I am directing a vague prayer towards an unspecified omnipotent deity. “Please, back to normal, back to normal, back to normal”, as if  the rhythmic repetition of the phrase could regulate the wild hammering in my chest. I have experienced this malfunction many times in the last five years, but every time I am afraid that this time it might not stop as suddenly as it started, that it might never go back to normal.

My neighbour continues to fight old battles. “How did you get in here? I don’t want you, get away from me.” There is implacable hatred in the sound. There is also fear. “What do you want? Get out”, her voice rises in panic. “It’s mine, mine”. And over and over: "I don’t want to talk to you, go away, you hear me!” She is so angry that her words become an indistinguishable mishmash of gurgling phlegm, spat out in a fury of demented malice. I had seen the woman earlier in the evening when I passed by her bed. She was calm then, a very old, very ill, heavy-bodied relic, toothless mouth wide open, not long from death. Now, at night, dementia has resurrected her old enemy, somebody surely long-dead, but hated and feared still. The gurgling turns to a rattle, she is falling asleep again.

A great wave of pity overcomes me, I am swamped by a feeling of tearfulness, a mourning for what is, and a fear of what is to come. My heart aches for the old woman, whose remaining nights on this beautiful earth are filled with the poison of a festering sore, neither forgiven, nor forgotten, never relieved, never healed. In the dead of this hospital night I promise myself that whatever happens, whatever imagined or real ill is done to me or done by me, I will resolve it; I will not let the demons pursue me into the fog of my dissolution.

I drift back into an uneasy sleep.

In the morning the orderly brings my breakfast. I sit up, swing my legs over the edge of the bed and pull the table towards me. As I am doing this, I glance up at the monitor at the exact moment when, after 50 hours of non-stop pummelling, my heart rhythm returns to normal.



55 comments:

  1. My dear, I would be petrified to give you a massage. Good that your heart beat is back to normal. And stop thinking about blog posts when you should be resting :D Hugs X

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  2. Dear friend Friko, it is Saturday where you are and still Friday here, and I am praying for all good things for you. May you have rest, healing sleep and treatment, and a happy return home.
    Your friend in California.

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  3. Good Lord. What is causing that galloping rhythm that just... stops? I do hope ti will be enough to let you out of that room with the dying woman. You are an amazing person, to write this, in the state you have been in for so long. Are you home now? I can only hope so, Friko.

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  4. Sorry to hear about your plight, Friko, but I'm relieved to learn that your ticker has regained its normal rhythm. Be well and rest assured that it won't be long before you and Millie and walking the trails again.

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  5. goodness...well sounds like you have been through a bit of excitement...i am glad you are returning to normal...that is pretty scary....

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  6. Yikes.. that sounds dreadful. I hope all as returned "back to normal" for you. Keeping you in my best thoughts, Friko.

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  7. Thank goodness for your happy ending, Friko. I can't imagine having to bring your heart rate down amid the cries of the dying. That would set mine through the roof. I'm sure Millie and your beloved were pining for you. Take care of yourself!

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  8. May you be out of there soon, if it's not already the case. This is a brilliant post (and a brilliant image to accompany it), though I wish above all that you'd not had the occasion to write it!

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  9. I hope you are able to find some peaceful and restorative sleep. It sounds pretty awful, as I'm a person who can sleep nearly anywhere, any time. Of course, medical issues complicate it, don't they? Rest, Friko. :)

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  10. This is beautiful, Friko, and beautifully written.

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  11. What an significant piece of writing. How thrilled to know you will enjoy dear 'normal' a while longer. How full of awe at what faces each of us. Love, dear Friko
    Aloha:-)

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  12. Glad to hear your heart rate has returned to normal Friko.

    Never is a night so long than when in hospital, worried about yourself and those around you and you are unable to sleep.

    Take care my friend.

    Anna :o]

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  13. Had it not been for your post, I would always have been convinced that the painting is by Hieronymus Bosch. It's right up his alley, isn't it?
    Good to know you are better, and I feel sorry for the old woman who was not able to ban her demons.

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  14. Wishing you well, Friko. Take it easy.

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  15. Hi Friko - I sure hope that means that you're home now and all is 'back to normal' .. bet Millie is delighted you're home and normal service is resumed ...

    Look after yourself ... stays in communal wards aren't fun ... enjoy your own bed and home .. and a cold weekend - good one for snuggling up with not doing much .. so pleased that was a brief blip ... cheers Hilary

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  16. Liebe Friko, ich hoffe, es geht Dir wieder ganz gut und Du bist zurueck in Deinem Heim! Goenne Dir ganz viel Ruhe! Alles Gute! :-)

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  17. A slice of your life...shared so eloquently! Sorry you are in the hospital...but I am glad that your heart has returned to normal functioning again.
    Be well and get home
    Hugs
    SueAnn

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  18. Dear Friko ~ You are in my thoughts and prayers. I am glad your heart rate returned to normal. This was a beautifully written piece from your heart and soul. My heart goes out to the lady also who is not at rest in her soul, who was in the bed next to you.

    Love and hugs to you ~ FlowerLady

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  19. Friko, I'm so sorry you had to go through that... both the heart problem and the unhappiness in the bed beside you. I can understand your fear that 'normal' might not return. I think we've all been there at some time and it's a very real concern. But thankfully, you are back now and I will pray that you stay well... and for the poor soul who was in the other bed too.

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  20. This is a beautifully-written and deeply-moving post, Friko, and I'm so sorry you've had such a difficult few days. It's good to know your heart rate is back to normal, though it sounds as though those wonderful deep massages may no longer be so good for you. I hope you're now home resting quietly with your Beloved and Millie.

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  21. A very vivid description of your long disturbed night in hospital. I do hope you are able to go back to your home and recover fully now.

    My mother had dementia in her last year and it is a terrible illness. One we all fear, I think. Poor lady.

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  22. I am struck by how well you recount what must have been a horror of a night. Had I lived such a thing, I'm not sure I'd be able to revisit it to tell the story.
    Sending you good wishes for rhythmical health.

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  23. Hoping by now as I read this that youu are snug at home with Millie curled at your feet and Your Beloved sitting nearby awaiting your request for a cup of tea. You should have been placed in a room with someone who loved gardening and could share the latest in what is new for 2013. But then perhaps the poor soul that was next to you had enjoyed her own beautiful garden at one time....

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  24. Goodness me Friko, and here I am hate ring on about how well I am doing, I'm so glad that when I got to the end of the post you were feeling better, hopefully you are home now with your beloved and Millie having a nice cup of tea looking over your wintered in garden.
    Wishing you well very soon CC xxx

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  25. Hmmmm, that Breughel knew a thing about a thing or two, didn't he. You also know a thing about many things, dear Friko.

    I'd think that hearing the sound of the pressure measuring machine would definitely not be good for relaxation, no matter who was speaking from the next bed.

    I hope that you're now safely home, recovering along with Millie. Have all those guests with the various diet demands gone home? (Most likely they compounded the massage effects?)

    xo

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  26. Goodness sake, I had no idea a simple massage could lead to such a procession of ills. Hope you feel better soon Friko and get back to enjoying drama again. Dianne

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  27. To me it is when you returned it to normal. I'd say you work you way & will your way to health. When you can. I do so hate people who act as if good thoughts & willpower will overcome everything. Not so, but I do believe you are a fighter when you determine fighting will help.

    Mourning, fear, pity. Even for those who refuse to acknowledge them, they are there.

    Glad you are back to you. ~Mary

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  28. You have a way of describing people and places that put us right there with you. I hope you can keep the promise you made to yourself. It is sad to think of any of us being so miserable in our last moments. Glad you're feeling better - you've had to listen to your heart in more than just a poetic way!

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  29. All you had to do was sit up! Maybe you should have tried that sooner. I guess this means no more massages for you. Sometimes I suffer from arrythmia, my heart skipping a beat with an irregular pattern but it only lasts for a couple of hours and sometimes I can get it to level out by taking several deep breaths. I know what you suffer from is different and I'm glad it ran it's course and you are back to normal. What ever nerve got stuck in the 'on' position by the massage finally flipped back to normal.

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  30. I'm sorry you've had another episode and hope you are home safely again.

    That poor woman...whatever horror from her life had revisited her?

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  31. Hope you're home now, resting and catching up on some peaceful sleep.

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  32. Oh no, not again. I read each word with an all too familiar understanding. Your adrenal system set off another episode. That too is so familiar. One never know when a massage, or some other stimulation will cause the "obstreperous cardiac system" to bring about the symptoms you describe so well. I am so sorry you had to go through this again. Really, Friko, can't they put in a pacemaker? I hate to see you continually go through this. Thankfully, you are now back in rhythm, normal rhythm that is.

    I can't imagine enduring the listening to the poor soul next to you. That would have put me over the edge. I would have been back to 180 bpm. I too hope you are home and resting comfortably. I'd ask the doctor for the anti-anxiety drug while in the hospital. My cardiologist prescribes it for me for times when I am dealing with intense irregular/rapid heart beats. No sense sneaking it in. I'd probably do the same if they were not prescribed.

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  33. I am sorry. I have not been visiting other blogs for the past little while, and then come here and find you poorly.
    I am thrilled that your heart has returned to a more normal rhythm - and share your pain for the woman in the bed next to you.

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  34. I hope this comment finds you back home and resting.
    Less than a week ago, I experienced skipped beats and a rapid heart rate. Husband called paramedics and they took me to the hospital till my heart calmed down. It seems we have been experiencing much the same thing.this has happened to me in the past, but it usually stops on it's own.
    That poor soul in the next bed. Such a pity to come to the end of life and have to suffer like that.
    Please take care...I'll keep you in my prayers.
    Balisha

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  35. I hope this finds you beating along normally. Instruct Jilly to be more gentle with those healing hands next time. I have to say how beautiful your writing is. "I will not let the demons pursue me into the fog of my dissolution" Your lucidity is a sight to behold, Friko. Your eye sees, does not flinch, and you sure know how to put it into words. That poor woman is so alive in her suffering, in your words. Full of admiration here. But above all I wish a steady, normal rhythm for you.

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  36. This beautifully written description of your hospital stay indicates you are home and back to your normal rhythms. What a relief! You certainly make profitable use of your intermittent and irregular heart problems to reflect upon what matters to you and what you can release.

    Be gentle with yourself Friko. Soak up all this love coming your way. May it sooth your sweet heart.

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  37. Oh, my dear, I am so sorry you have to contend with this. I suspect and hope that by now you are home and getting the good rest you deserve, sweet Millie by your side. I must say, you really nail life in the hospital -- this place of healing is also one of great struggle, and when I say that, I think of both your roommate's challenges and your own.

    I send love and hugs across the seas and hope that in good time you will be ready for the next big thing and in good gear again. Sending love.

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  38. I am mightily relieved that your rhythms have returned to normal. As for your unfortunate roommate...I am sorry for her-- and I hope her brain changes channels soon, so to speak. What a way to go :(

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  39. Please take care
    and remain healthy.
    So sad
    the older woman you shared about.
    Remembering you in a special way...

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  40. Hallo Friko,
    sehr intelligenter Post ... ein Gemälde aus dem 15. Jahrhundert und diese Unannehmlichkeiten / Krankheit, dass Du Medikamente nehmen musst. Bei meinem Post über den U-Bahn-Bau in Köln hatte ich ja auch ein Gemälde von Pieter Brueghel plaziert (Turmbau zu Babel). Ich habe nicht alles auf englisch gelesen, aber so wie Du Dich durch all die Irrungen und Wirrungen der Krankheit hindurch mogelst, erinnert an Dulle Griet. Die Gemälde von den Brueghels mag ich sehr.

    Gruß Dieter

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  41. Brueghel's painting makes me think that he had a clear vision of the inner workings of imagination and thought, and he was willing to bring them into the open, much as you, Friko, have put your hospital thoughts into words with terrifying clarity. I hope that you are now recovering from the exhaustion such an episode must cause and are comforted by being in your own surroundings.

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  42. Friko -- I'm so glad the heart rate went back to normal -- may it stay that way.

    Perhaps the old woman was warding off the Grim Reaper...

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  43. Oh, I was so happy to read that last part, that your heartbeat returned to normal. I hope you are resting at home now and that poor woman's nightmares have stopped haunting her.

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  44. So sorry to hear this - long may your rhythm remain normal!

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  45. I hope you are home again now and relishing your familiar surroundings. Keep well!

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  46. Dear Friko, your last line relieved the concern I was feeling for what was happening with and for and to you. I'm so glad that your heart rhythm returned to normal. The following paragraph spoke forcefully to me. Thank you for saying these words: "A great wave of pity overcomes me, I am swamped by a feeling of tearfulness, a mourning for what is, and a fear of what is to come. My heart aches for the old woman, whose remaining nights on this beautiful earth are filled with the poison of a festering sore, neither forgiven, nor forgotten, never relieved, never healed. In the dead of this hospital night I promise myself that whatever happens, whatever imagined or real ill is done to me or done by me, I will resolve it; I will not let the demons pursue me into the fog of my dissolution." Peace.

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  47. So moved by your experiences; both frightening and enlightening in that you realize there is no way to run from the inevitable we all face; one day, each and every one of us will endure a permanent heart failure, but not necessarily, on the other hand, a failure "of the heart." Thank you for your honesty, and the bare truth of our shared predicaments.

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  48. So glad that your heartbeat is back to normal Friko.

    Your insight and your writing certainly held firm throughout the ordeal, even making me laugh as I read your comment on my post as well.

    I have spent many an overnight in the hospital with my mother and father during the past several years and the scene that you describe with the anger, fear and indistinguishable mishmash of the neighbor is often times so unfortunately a staple of hospital existence.





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  49. A well related story Friko. Having been in hospital I can understand your thoughts and emotions here. Well told. Thanks for sharing - Dave

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  50. That was really beautiful to read. Thank-you so much for sharing this. I wonder who she was seeing. Maybe a friend or family member who has passed and is coming to guide her to the next path. Maybe that's why she doesn't want to see or talk to them. I guess none of us will know until we get close to that time ourselves.

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  51. It must be terrible when one suffers from insomnia, no wonder that you took too much of this very strong stuff. Unfortunately I know these medication too, but not for insomnia.
    Your body must have needed this long time of sleep, but it is so sorry when you have to share a room with a dying person who is still so full of hatred !
    A very emotional post !

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  52. Such a beautifully written post, dear Friko. Who knows what harrowing ghosts must be hounding the poor old woman... The episode, which you describe so brilliantly, reminds me of the helpless heroine of Hillary Mantel's 'Beyond Black' who is perpetually tormented by a bunch of hideous ghosts from her past.

    So, so glad your heartbeat is back to normal, and hope it continues to stay so. Do get well soon. Hugs.

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  53. I am struck once again by the perverse irony that such a wonderful experience such as sentience, or consciousness, should depend so absolutely on the container in which it is housed. Our fragile bodies and the systems that comprise them support the experience of being alive but in such a fallible way. Mess about with the chemistry or biology of it and consciousness is such a different place to be. And it can all be changed with chemistry or by mechanical damage. It could be the neurons that fail you, or "merely" the pump. But it's so tenuous sometimes I wonder our systems keep working as long as they do.
    Your description of the old lady is so eloquently described that it cannot fail but to evoke the horror of a decline of mental faculties. Isn't it such a shame her recurrent memories could not have been pleasant ones. Perhaps the bad ones are the most obtrusive. I wonder how we can guard against that being the case. should we ever enter that place. Does a zest for life and practising compassion help us to ensure happier reminiscences in our addled times? It's worth I try, I think.

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  54. Friko. Obviously you are better as I just read the above post. Take it easy and get well - my heart goes out to the other woman, as I see does yours. Hugs.

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  55. This is such a trial for you, and hospitals are so vile. I am sure they make some people feel even worse, although I suppose they do physically cure them. I am glad that your heart rate has returned to normal. 180 beats a minute does NOT sound like fun. Many friends I know with AF seem to have pills but a presume this doesn't do the trick for you.

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